


11:11

by fairydrarry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Astronomy Tower, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, guest appearance by a childhood game im quite fond of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 03:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9053317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairydrarry/pseuds/fairydrarry
Summary: Harry gets a note from Draco to meet him in the Astronomy Tower.





	

**Author's Note:**

> secret santa gift i posted on tumblr :') my blog is the same url as my ao3 if you want to see the moodboard i made along with the ficlet. hope you enjoy!

_“Meet me in the Astronomy Tower. Nine o’clock. Don’t be late.” - D.M._

Harry climbed the steps to the top of the tower, his footfalls as soft as he could manage. He wasn’t sure why Malfoy had asked him up here this late, anyway, but he’d rather not get in trouble with Filch here, no matter what the situation. To be honest with himself, he’d rather not be at the tower, but Draco must have had a good reason. At least, Harry hoped so, but what’s hope without anything to base it off of?

He slid the piece of paper out of his pants pocket. Harry discovered the note wedged between his Year 8 Potions and Herbology textbooks, most likely slipped into his book pile by Malfoy when Harry wasn’t looking. Elegant yet scrawled script adorned the small square of creamy stationery, Draco’s initials ending with a flourish. The brunet studied the inked loops and curves right after dinner, his curtains shut around his bed as he lay staring up at the note. At the time, he was internally dumbfounded at how something seemingly messy could still look so professional and sophisticated. Harry was still perplexed.

Harry reached the top of the tower with a sigh, slipping the paper back into his pocket. After casting a quick _Tempus_ to see that the time was 8:59, he creaked open the door, silently willing it not to make any noise.

He spotted Draco against a pillar before he had even pushed the door all the way open. The blond was staring wistfully out over the landscape, his messy hair waving gently in the cool autumn breeze. His dark green pajamas looked rumpled, the crescent moon illuminating the creases. Malfoy’s hands were lightly curled around his right ankle, his left leg dangling lackadaisically off the edge of the of the tower. He hadn’t yet realized Harry’s presence, and Harry took his obliviousness for granted by appreciating how lovely Draco looked in the moonlight for just a moment more.

“Draco.” Harry whispered softly, trying not to frighten the vulnerable-looking blond. Said blond quickly turned his head and rested his eyes upon Harry, whose hair looked as shabby as ever and whose clothes looked to be the perfect fit for the dark-haired boy. In his stormy eyes Draco held a look of tenderness for only a second, until Draco blinked and looked away. The brief moment between them was over. Harry shut the door behind him with a _click_.

“Potter.” He said it so clinically that Harry almost flinched at the sound, but Harry restrained himself from doing so. He moved from the door to the other side of the safety rail, mentally noting there were other places in the room that he could have sat at as opposed to the spot next to a rail closest to Draco.

“You asked me up here?”

“I did.”

“Can I ask why?”

“I don’t know,” Draco’s smirk could be heard through his tone though Harry was staring at the ground. “Can you?”

“ _May_ I ask why?”

There was a brief silence, as if Draco had predicted Harry would get mad and storm out rather than ask in the way Draco preferred. Harry watched the blond frown slightly out of the corner of his eye. It seemed as though Draco hadn’t thought this far ahead and didn’t already have an answer prepared. Harry scoffed mentally. _For the first time in forever, I bet._

“I… wanted to talk.” He trailed off. He had no idea how to explain that he really just wanted someone’s company, and the only person he could stand, ironically, was his supposed arch nemesis. Harry, thinking up a witty remark, stared at his hands, then stared at Draco’s, which were nervously fidgeting with the hem of his grey nightshirt.

“I can safely say we’re talking, Malfoy.”

Draco shot Potter a grimace before looking at the sky. He seemed at a loss for words yet again, and Harry subconsciously wondered what had Draco experienced to make him lose his ability to come up with sarcastic jokes after every word. He hadn’t talked to Harry for so long, he wondered if Draco was going selectively mute.

“What did you want to talk about?” Harry helped him out, seeing the slightly alarming look of distress crossing over the blond’s harsh features. “Like, Quidditch? Or… or Transfiguration?” Draco’s nose crinkled immediately after Harry mentioned the class. “Okay, so no Transfiguration.”

“We could talk about it, but it just is not my favorite conversation topic.”

Harry looked over at the boy sitting across from him, incredulous at the fact that, technically, he and Draco were having a civil conversation.

“We could play a game.”

Straightaway, the blond’s face contorted into one of wariness. “It’d better not be Truth or Dare.”

“What do you know about Truth or Dare?” Harry chuckled, surprised at Draco’s knowledge of the Muggle game.

“Blaise made us play once last year.” Draco shuddered. “Never again.”

“We won’t play that one. We could play a different one.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Harry adopted a mischievous smile. “Ever heard of Concentration 64?”

“Is it that clapping game?”

“I hope you do realize that describes a large selection of games.”

“Oh, fine then, you prat, what is it?”

Harry shifted closer to Draco, grabbing the wary boy’s hands. They were surprisingly warm, as were their owner’s now pink cheeks.

“So,” The brunet began, “the clapping pattern goes like this.” He held his hands in front of him, facing Draco. Draco copied the position. He pushed his left hand against Draco’s, then to his own right hand. Going slow so Draco could retain the information better, he pressed his right hand this time to Draco’s, then back to his other hand. He clapped three times in succession, earning a gasp and a “Shh!” from the blond boy.

“You’re gonna get us caught, Harry.” Draco vocalized his worry, a laugh hidden in his voice as he imagined Filch’s face when he saw both boys playing a hand game late at night.

“Then be quiet,” Harry quipped back with a taunting grin pasted on his face. Draco’s eyes lingered on his mouth for just a bit longer than justifiable, but if Harry noticed, he said nothing of it.

Harry didn’t notice. Instead, he watched as Draco slowly took down the walls that he kept enforced at all times around Harry.

“Okay, I’m gonna add chanting to the clapping. Just go with it.” Draco nodded, determination in his eyes as he raised his hands in preparation.

“Concentration,” Harry mumbled, softly pressing his hands to Draco’s. Thrice they clapped quietly, giggling soundlessly at the act of making a loud noise quiet. “64-“

“Why the number ’64’?”

“No one knows, but I think it’s because it sounds nice.”

“Oh, okay. Continue.”

No repeats, or hesitation.” Draco’s hand fumbled, and he apologized as he reddened intensely. The boys resumed their game.

“I go first, and you go second. Category is…?” Harry shot a pointed look at Draco, who was so concentrated on getting the hand movements right that he almost hadn’t realized Harry had stopped talking.

“Oh! Uh…” Draco casted a speedy glance through the handrail at the night sky. “Constellations.”

Harry nodded in agreement, hoping that Draco didn’t know any more constellations than Harry.

“Draco.” The blond looked smug.

“Sirius.”

“Andromeda.”

“Gemini.”

“Leo.”

“Pisces.”

“Serpens.”

“Sagittarius.”

“Scorpius.”

“Orion.”

“Cassiopeia.”

“Cancer.”

“Canis Major.”

“Canis _Minor_?”

“Harry, that’s no fair, you didn’t even _know_ that was a constellation!” Harry looked incredibly shocked to have correctly guessed that if there was a Canis Major, surely there must be a Canis Minor. Draco looked like he had just gotten a toy taken away, with his arms crossed over his chest and his bottom lip poking out. Actually, he looked kind of adorable…

“What time is it?” Harry blurted out, saying the first thing that came to mind to change his mind’s course of action. Draco wandlessly casted _Tempus_ , revealing that it was 11:08. Harry sighed with relief.

“What’s wrong?” Draco questioned, confused at Harry’s sigh. Harry smiled, happy that he was interested. It was a nice change of pace to just talk, instead of punch each other in the face and all that.

“Every night, I make an 11:11 wish. I didn’t want to miss it.”

Draco tilted his head like a bewildered puppy, making Harry’s heart ache. “What’s an 11:11 wish?”

“God, I forgot it’s not a part of wizard culture.” A smile too bright for the night’s darkness took over Harry’s face as he lowered their hands gently, about to burst into explanation.

“At exactly 11:11, you close your eyes and wish for whatever you want.”

“Well, what’s the point?”

“What do you mean, what’s the point? If you wish hard enough, it’ll come true.”

“But why would you wish? You’re a wizard, Harry. Just use magic.”

“In order to use magic, you usually have to use _words_. But if you say your wish out loud, it’ll never come true.”

“Harry, this seems-“

“Draco! What time is it?!”

Draco, feigning disinterest, lazily casted the spell. They watched together as the last digit of 11:10 turned to a 1, Harry glaring at the floating numbers, Draco eying them in his peripheral vision.

As soon as the number flipped, Harry shut his eyes and tightened the muscles in his hands. Draco’s hands were entangled in Harry’s and the brunet’s fingers closed around the blond’s. Draco’s eyelashes fluttered closed.

Silence fell in the Astronomy Tower, apart from the shallow breaths coming from the two boys. The two wishes occurring in the top of the tower were complementary to each other; one involved a blond boy with rumpled hair and crumpled pajamas, while the other involved a raven-haired boy with crooked glasses and a soft voice. Their hands were intertwined, and even though the time dancing in front of their eyes told them it was pas 11:11, not one hand made a move towards or away the other.

Draco’s eyes opened before Harry’s, and the puddles of molten silver flowing behind blond eyelashes watched as eyelids uncovered intense waterfalls of emerald. The corners of Draco’s lips quirked up, and Harry smiled back.

“What’d you wish for?” Draco stage-whispered, leaning in so the numbers whooshed away and their noses were half a centimeter away from touching.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat, his gaze immobilized and stuck in the intense look Draco was giving him. “C-can’t disrupt the magic at work, Malfoy.” Harry weakly responded, immensely aware of the fact that Draco’s hands moved closer to his, tightening the loose grip their hands were previously in.

“'Course not. We couldn’t have that, could we?”


End file.
